I’m Not Wearing Any
25 September 2013
Yesterday I was late leaving for work so that when I was waiting at a red light, Teresa and Enzo, on the way to school, pulled up next to me in the left turn lane. There was one car between us. I was wearing a very abbreviated grubby bike skirt with built-in bike shorts. Both their windows rolled down.
Teresa: “I see London!”
Enzo: “I see France!”
Me: “I’m not wearing any!”
And then the light turned green.
Enzo: “I admit, I watch a lot of horror films.”
Last weekend Enzo and I went to Happy Tails, the no-kill cat shelter where we adopted Duncan. We go there to pet the cats and play with them. (Duncan is wise to Enzo and avoids him. These cats don’t know any better, and Enzo is really good with them.) We were in a big glass room with about fifteen cats and a teenage girl volunteer who was counting them. I had to pee. “Do you want to stay here for a few minutes and I’ll be right back?” And then to the girl. “Is it okay if he’s in here without me for a minute?”
“It’s okay, I’ll watch him,” she said.
“Do you want to stay here?”
“Okay to stay here?” said the girl.
“I’m okay with my mom.” And he went with me. He would have had no problem being in there alone. It was the girl who scared him.
Another time at Happy Tails he said, “Cats are just so soft. I feel like I just want to make leather out of them.”